


Hope

by cousinrayray



Series: Common Decency [2]
Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Anal Sex, C137cest, M/M, Oral Sex, Rimming, Sequel, goddamnitMorty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 08:45:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12250962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cousinrayray/pseuds/cousinrayray
Summary: If there's one thing Morty had learned from Rick, it's where there's a will, there's a way.Sequel to Trust





	Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Alright guys here it is! Part two to Trust, or maybe part 1.5, that's what it sort of feels like to me.
> 
> It's a Morty pov this time, but if that bums you out, never fear! I'm working on a third and final part, which will be another Rick pov. 
> 
> What can I say? I've gone off the deep end.

Hope

 

Reaching adulthood came in many forms. Sometimes it was an affair dictated by others, sometimes it was internally driven. Morty knew he was an adult the night after he fucked his grandfather. 

His reasoning wasn't what one might assume. He knew it wasn't what Rick would assume. He simply knew he was an adult because he had outsmarted his grandfather, who was the smartest adult he would ever know. And he had gone big, in a true Rick-esque fashion. 

Morty had known that voicing his desires would inevitably end with them in Rick's bedroom. Rick, despite his anger and arguments and best intentions, was too self-destructive for anything else to occur. All Morty had to do was help make it easier on him. He knew Rick didn't believe in absolute certainty, so Morty pretended to be less than that. 

He humored Rick, acted like the points he raised were news to Morty, took the “time to consider it”. It wasn't really anything new. Morty had been humoring Rick for as long as they'd been together. The waiting was for Rick's sake. Morty had already been waiting forever. He had decided to go for it now simply because he figured he was finally old enough to make the pointless arguments simpler, more believable. 

And so he did it. He got his way. He had gotten the man to do something Morty knew he had thought he would never do. Which brought him to the second reason why he knew he was an adult now, as he lied in the dark curled up against his sleeping grandfather: Morty had learned that you could feel bad about finally getting exactly what you wanted. 

He knew Rick was deeply troubled by what they were going to do, but he never realized exactly how much until he saw him splotchy and ill-looking, physically unmanned as he tried to do as Morty asked. Morty had never felt lower in his life, and he wondered if this was what Rick felt all the time. Like he was breaking something precious. But Rick would bounce back. He always did. And at least Morty had gotten him off, in the end. But right now, lying here, the knowledge of what he had done made Morty a bit sick. 

Mixed with his sickness, though, was an irrepressible thrill, the unrepentant satisfaction of a plan savored and sweated over and brought to near-perfect fruition, and the excitement of new plans simmering and slowly gathering motion. 

Because Morty knew something else, something that was key to everything he wanted and needed; he knew that despite the man's fear and guilt and regret, sooner or later Rick would want to do it again.

He had never felt more like Rick, manipulative and Machiavellian. But he was still Morty, just a Morty, and he kissed the arm that was flung over him apologetically and snuggled inwards, before closing his eyes and making himself sleep. 

 

He woke a few hours later when Rick started poking him in the shoulder. “MMMorty, Morty,” he muttered groggily. Morty controlled the shiver that wanted to manifest, hearing his name mumbled in that sleepy voice. 

“Morty, you, you gotta go, Morty. You gotta go back to your room.”

He got up without complaint, reigning in the desire to give Rick one last touch, who now looked like he was feigning sleep. He wasn't going to push his grandfather right now. He put on his clothes and crept quietly out of the room and back to his own. As he walked, he allowed a wide grin to overtake his face. Last night had been awesome. Just, so fucking awesome. Feeling Rick touch him and being inside him had been indescribable. Rick might feel bad, but he knew Rick had enjoyed himself too. 

The memory gun was a bit of a looming threat, but Morty knew he wouldn't feel “weird or not coping”. He had known what he wanted for ages. All he had to do was with time and normalcy soothe Rick into believing things were fine. He crawled into his own bed and went back to sleep, a slight smile still on his face. 

The next morning he woke up feeling optimistic and energized. He even kissed his Mom on the cheek as he sat down to breakfast, earning a surprised smile from her and a raised eyebrow from Rick. 

Rick seemed to be trying, and failing, to not stare at Morty as he ate, his face grumpy and his eyes inscrutable. Finally he let his silverware fall to his plate with a small clatter, stood, and strode off, presumably to the garage. Morty made himself finish his own breakfast calmly, waited a bit, then followed him.

He reached the garage door and braced himself for a moment before opening it. Rick was sitting at his workbench, tinkering around, and he glanced up when Morty entered, but continued his work, if it was actually work. For a few moments there was just silence. 

“So-ough-ooo,” Rick began suddenly. Morty jumped a bit, then chided himself. “I- we got a lotta shit to do today, Morty. There's- I owe this douche bag some money. Well, not money, but-but goods Morty, exchangeable goods, you-ough, you know. We're gonna get Flishlax powder from I-Zeta 12, then we gotta go to a different guy to, to get the resin extracted at Agdworf Prime- and- it, it doesn't fucking matter Morty, your, your brain gets taxed by anything with more than two steps. But we gotta- we gotta go, it's gonna be a long day.” He stood as he said the last, normal as could be, except for the very slightly challenging glance he sent Morty. 

Morty just nodded, shrugged, and said “Sure, Rick”. As far as Rick's tests went, this one was fairly obvious. They got in the ship and left.

 

Throughout the day, Morty was pretty sure he was fine, he was normal. He had a lot of experience at being normal Morty. As usual he did his best to help Rick. As usual he fucked some things up. 

And he felt normal, or surprisingly close to it. The back of his mind was still re-running moments from the night before. It was a triumph of will and eroticism he exalted in and was still in shock he had managed to achieve. But he could push it aside. Working with Rick was beyond familiar, it had been a mainstay of his life for over two years. 

And they were years during which, if he was honest with himself, he had always felt one kind of attraction or another to his grandfather. When it changed to something overtly erotic wasn't really noted, because in a way that had always felt inevitable. Rick had always been many things, all things, to Morty. So in a large way, he felt the same as he always had. 

The same was not true for Rick, he could tell. His grandfather was close to his normal, douchey, reckless self, but there was a bit too much order to the chaos.  
He would glance at Morty unnecessarily, pause before speaking. 

And though shoulder punches and noogies and shoving were a natural part of Rick's repertoire, not once, during the entire day, did he touch Morty. He laughed, he joked, he gestured, but he didn't touch. 

It made Morty's heart ache. He wasn't panicked, he knew Rick wouldn't bail on him, knew it would take far more than this for Rick to ever stop. But he felt sorry that his actions had made adventures difficult for his grandfather. Things would probably take longer than he had hoped to move forward, while Rick forgave himself and Morty. But that was ok. He felt confident that, as long as he stayed normal, Rick would stop being afraid. 

 

Rick did get better, and began touching him normally again within the week, though it took a long time for the slightly hunted glances to stop. It took even longer for him to stop seeming so self-conscious, for the uncontrolled spontaneity to begin to come back into his behavior, for him to come bursting into Morty's room babbling nonsense in the middle of the night, or pull Morty's pants down in front of alien babes. But he got there. 

A few things remained different, became ingrained into a new normal. On occasion he and Morty would be laughing together and they would look at each other, laughing, and Rick's smile would freeze, just a microsecond, and look more forced afterwards. And sometimes Morty would catch Rick staring at him, which wasn't too abnormal but it felt different. 

Most bizarrely, and Morty wasn't sure he was correct in this, but he thought Rick might be drinking less. 

He was pretty sure he knew why, after one night. It was late, or maybe very early, when Rick came stumbling into his room. The way he collapsed on Morty's bed told Morty, who had awoken quickly, that Rick was very drunk. Drunker than he had been in a long time. He sprawled face down across the foot of Morty's bed, muttering incomprehensibly, then dragged himself forwards to sit, swaying. 

“W-hat’s up, Rick,” Morty said, tiredly but amicably enough. Rick didn't do anything, he just stared at him, mouth lax and drooling. Which wasn't totally unusual, so Morty waited. And waited. 

It was possible this was some sort of test, of intelligence, of proper id, of some unknowable Rick thing. But the longer he waited the more the idea began to creep over him that maybe this was something different, that Rick was here thinking about something else entirely. 

“Mo-ough-rty.”

He did his absolute damnedest not to tensen, to not let his eyes widen or his breath change. But he couldn't help locking his eyes with Rick's, they felt inexorable. 

“Y-yeah, Rick?”

But it seemed that was all Rick had to give, he just kept staring, boring into Morty with a flat face and strange eyes. 

Just as Morty was beginning to wonder if there might be something actually wrong with Rick, he moved. He crawled unstably up the bed, absently wiping his mouth, and sat on Morty’s upper legs, pinning the boy. He bent forward, planted his arms on either side of Morty’s head and loomed over him before freezing once more. He stared into Morty's face. 

Here was the test.

Morty wasn't sure who it was directed at. Knowing Rick, he'd double up and do them both at once. 

For his part, feeling it was immensely important, Morty didn't tense, didn't freeze. He just breathed normally, kept his face patient and neutral, gazing back up at Rick, and waiting for his response. 

Rick was breathing through his nose, in and out, his expression flat at first, then slowly filling with something. Morty didn't know what, refused to allow himself to worry about it. He just breathed, and stared back.

Rick's hand came up fast and sudden, but didn't land. Instead it hovered an inch above the side of Morty's face. Morty didn't glance away from Rick, who leaned in, eyes hard, almost taunting.

Morty did, eventually, blink though, and in a sudden flurry of drunken movement Rick launched himself off the bed, his face looking angry.

“G-euuugh-od, fucking d-damn it”, He slurred, as he staggered back out of the room, slamming the door. 

Morty finally allowed himself a deep exhale. He listened for any noises of Rick falling down the stairs or getting into some other kind of trouble, but the shuffling, unsteady thumping sounded typical of Rick navigating back to his own bedroom. The house grew quiet. 

What. The fuck. Was that.

 

For a while, Morty waited eagerly for something else to happen, convinced that the strange bedroom incident was a precursor of some sort. But that was the only time anything like that ever happened. He waited and waited and eventually almost a year had passed since that first night in Rick's room.

He and Rick were fine. Things between them had settled into as close to comfortable as they ever got, and Morty knew Rick was impressed by how he had progressed in their adventures, how he had grown as a person in general, though he never said anything. He was almost convinced that he was wrong, that this was all either of them needed from each other. 

But only almost. It wasn't all Morty needed. He found refuge almost every night in his hand, reliving memories that had never lost their edge. He couldn't live with just one taste of heaven, he was just as much a junkie as Rick. But, it seemed he might have to live with it, that aside from sidelong looks and occasional pauses Rick had given this particular vice a pass. 

He tried to accept it, found he couldn't, and decided it was worth it to just throw his patient plan out the window.

Fuck waiting. Rick was too proud, would rather pat himself on the back for getting his way and being a lonely bastard than admit he was wrong and do something he actually enjoyed. Morty prepared himself to do something, considered how best to confront the issue. 

Ultimately, he decided to try to emulate a different strength of Rick's than he had used the first time. Instead of subtlety, he would use force. 

 

One night he and Rick were alone and, surprisingly, had been doing nothing but watching tv all night. His mom was at a convention for the weekend, and Summer was sleeping over at a friends. 

Eventually, Rick stood and groaned and shuffled off, grunting a “ ‘Night” to Morty as he went to his room. Morty waited, allowed himself to tap his hand nervously on his leg for a bit, then made himself stop, breathed, and followed. 

When he opened Rick's door, Rick, who seemed in the middle of taking his shirts off, spoke without turning to look at him.

“Wha-augh-t, Morty?” 

Morty slipped inside and closed the door. Rick paused his motions and turned. “God, Morty, w-what is it? I'm a fucking tired old man, I-I don't need any bullshit.” 

He looked cranky and delectable, standing there in his wife beater and pants, and Morty already felt more confident in his chosen course. He walked forward quickly and calmly, stepping around Rick's junk on the floor, and grabbed his grandfather’s head and shoulder, pulling him down (not nearly as far down as it would have been, once), and kissing him. 

At the first touch of his lips Rick jerked like he had been electrocuted, his hands coming up to shove Morty away, but Morty just held him harder. He ran his tongue lightly over Rick's lower lip, delighted when Rick responded and began slowly moving his own mouth, sucking his tongue in. It was perfect, Rick's mouth felt so hot and tasted like booze, and Morty moaned, his grip slackening. The moment it did Rick's hands clenched on his arms and pushed hard, sending Morty sprawling back. 

“What the fuck, Morty!! What the fuck- fuck off, you moronic ass! Whatever happened to one fucking time!?” His lip was bleeding from where Morty accidentally bit it when he was pushed, and Rick brought his hand up to it and flicked some blood away. He looked enraged. 

“Rick,” Morty began, stepping forward, trying to sound calm and authoritative. Rick didn't let him, he went off. 

“No, Morty, don't start your fucking shit! I'm not doing this shit, you're- you- you broke the fucking deal, get out of my goddam room! Get out! Get the f-fuck out of my fucking room!” 

He looked so angry and disgusted. When Morty just stood there, he began glancing around agitatedly. Morty closed the distance between them swiftly, worried he was about to grab some sort of weapon, maybe the dreaded memory gun. He clamped his arms down around Rick, trying to get him to stop and listen for one second. Rick thrashed his shoulders but Morty was much stronger than he used to be and he began again, “R-rick, just stop and-”.

Fast as a snake Rick swung his neck and headbutted him. Morty yelled in pain and anger, and without thinking swung with his left fist and punched Rick in the face, eliciting a pained shout from the man. He felt a knee drive towards his crotch and he jerked instinctively, his hand shooting out to Rick's throat. For an instant, he felt it under his hand. Horrified, he sprang back, knowing he had really done it, now Rick would actually kill him. 

He stood and waited. They were both breathing harshly, Rick looking at him with narrowed eyes and a still-bleeding lip, his chest heaving and his hand rising to his face. Morty could only imagine what he looked like right now. This had been a terrible idea. What made him think he could handle Rick face to face? No one could handle Rick. Rick coughed and, still glaring at him, began to talk, his voice hoarse. 

“You know, Morty, you're- you're a real piece of shit. If anyone- anyone else tried to pull the shit you just did, they'd be a smoking pile of fucking ashes right now.”

“Rick,-”

“Shut the f-fuck up Morty. I'm not finished. You are a selfish, worthless, piece of shit. I'd, I’d call you a moron, but it's beyond that. It's, it’s like it's deliberate. It's not- it's not enough that I fucking defiled us both for you. It's not good enough that I- I've had to put effort into every fucking waking moment to save us from this- this stupid bullshit that YOU started.” As he spat out the words, he advanced until he was towering over Morty, his hands flexing open and closed. Morty wondered vaguely if he was gonna choke him.

“You're a selfish, hopeless bastard, Morty. You drain me fucking dry. And I don't even- I don't know why I even fucking bother trying to save your ass, ever. But I'm done, I'm fucking done with you Morty, I'm done saving your ass. You- you deserve whatever, whatever godawfulness life throws at you, Morty, because YOU are the fucking worst.” He finished venomously, breathing hard, curling his lip at Morty.

Morty breathed in and out a few times, looking at Rick’s angry, scared face, and suddenly knew what to say.

“N-now... now you're finally starting to get it.”

And when he closed the gap and kissed Rick again, this time Rick let him. 

He kept up a faint awareness as he attacked his grandfather’s mouth, waiting for Rick to start struggling again. But it seemed like Rick had decided to vent his anger using a different method, biting Morty's lip too harshly and driving his tongue into his mouth, his long hands coming up to grip painfully on Morty's arms. 

Morty gave back as good as he got, pushing forward with mouth and body until Rick's back thumped against the wall with a growl from the man. Morty's anger was draining fast in the heady feel of Rick's mouth on his, his body pressed against him, but he harnessed what was left to say roughly, and he hoped convincingly, into Rick's mouth, “Now s-shut up, and let me fuck you.”

It seemed to work. At least, Rick flushed and didn't he laugh, or shut Morty down. He broke apart their kiss, raised his eyebrow and after a pause muttered, “Fine” and stripped his clothes off. 

Morty felt chills running up and down his body just at the sight of him, angular and lean and all for him, and a bolt of arousal shot right to his cock and he almost moaned when he looked down and saw that Rick was already mostly erect. 

Rick got onto the bed, lounged back and stared as Morty undressed, his hand resting on his cock with a thumb rubbing idly across it. Morty felt positively arrested by the picture his grandfather made, it would look almost coy, but it was so utterly unself-conscious. He finished stripping with a dry mouth and a thumping heart, crawling onto the bed with an almost-embarrassingly aroused dick swaying as he moved, Rick’s eyes on him the entire time. 

“S-so, how you want me this time, kiddo?” Rick drawled with a smirk, but his eyes flickered, as Morty drank in the sight of him lying there. Morty responded by leaning over him and kissing him, more gently than they had so far, and pushing Rick's hand away to begin stroking him with his own, savoring the grunt Rick let out into his mouth. 

He could never get enough of this, would never get enough of this, feeling his Rick, his beautiful outrageous insane wreck of a grandfather, respond to his touch, to his body. After several long moments he paused and looked Rick in the eye. He tried to speak, cleared his throat hastily, and tried again. 

“I-I want you just like this. And I want- I want you to do absolutely nothing.”

Rick raised both his eyebrows at him, giving him a dubious look. “Ookay, Morty, what-whatever floats your boat.” He folded his arms behind his head and laid there, looking at him almost challengingly. Morty shifted himself to kneel between Rick's legs. After a pause to gather his thoughts, he decided to start with what he knew and took his grandfather into his mouth. 

Yes, this was an excellent choice. He had missed this, thought about it over and over. The taste, the smell, the feel of Rick on his tongue was already burned into his mind and he eagerly reacquainted himself, bobbing up and down on Rick's cock. He could hear the sound of air rushing into his grandfather's nose in a sharp inhalation, could hear light rustles as the man shifted around on the bed. And he could feel Rick's dick twitch and pulse and grow harder in his mouth as he continued. It made his own cock ache desperately, and he controlled his desire to reach down and touch himself. Later, he'd have plenty of time to get off in a bit. 

Inspired by the noises Rick was making, harsh, swallowed sounds he never let out, Morty decided to try something else, and he pulled off of Rick's cock with a small pop and a jerk from Rick.

He grabbed his grandfather's hips and pulled them onto his lap, then took Rick's legs and bent them forward, pressing them up against Rick's chest. He glanced up at Rick's face, indicating he should keep them there. Rick rolled his eyes at him, like he had as much dignity in this position as any other, bent up like a baby, ass out and dick hard and face red. “You do know- do you even know what you're doing here, Morty?”

Morty just grinned, and ducked down while Rick let out a belabored huff, which got choked off when Morty spread his cheeks, leaned in, and swiped his tongue across his asshole. When he drove it inwards as far as he could he earned himself a brief yell and a “F-fuck, Morty!”, which made him want to grin but his mouth was somewhat occupied. He squirmed his tongue around inside his grandfather, pushing it in and out and flicking it around the rim, feeling the muscles twitch and spasm against him while Rick clenched the bed and muttered the odd curse. It was filthy perfection and Morty let out a moan, drool running out of his mouth as he continued eating Rick out. He wasn't going to be able to wait much longer. Besides, his mouth was getting a bit tired. He pushed his tongue in as far as it could go one last time, listening avidly to the open groan Rick finally let out, then pulled back and raised his head, looking at his grandfather. 

The man looked gorgeous, his dick red and straining and his hands clenched tight to the bed. His face was flushed and slightly sweaty and he looked back at Morty with a furrowed brow, panting lightly. Morty almost wished they could stop right here, that he could freeze time and just stare at Rick, unraveling and panting for him, forever. But his cock was going to explode soon, and he knew it was about to get even better, so he dragged his eyes away and lined his dick up to Rick's wet hole. 

He considered pausing and asking where he could find some lube, and/or using his fingers on Rick for a bit first, but last time he did this Rick had responded well to a somewhat rough entry. He paused for a few seconds anyway, allowing Rick to voice a complaint if he was off-base, and allowing himself to try to reel in his arousal a bit. He wanted this to last.

When Rick said nothing, and a glance up at him showed nothing but a rigidly controlled face and slightly widened eyes, he went in. He pushed forward slowly, clenching his teeth against the tight resistance as he breached through, and listened to Rick's guttural “Jesus” as he continued bearing down until he was fully inside. Once seated, he paused a few more moments, containing himself. It was difficult, as Rick was twitching slightly, deliciously, underneath him. 

Finally he gave a few slow, rolling thrusts, and settled into a fairly quick rhythm, his hands grasping his grandfather's hips harshly, enjoying Rick's rougher panting.

After a bit an idea came to him and he pulled his cock almost all the way out, leaving just the head in, and began giving tiny, short thrusts, each one pulling back till just the very tip was barely pressing in, then pushing the head back in once more. He slowed down, more and more, grinning, until he was just barely pushing, creeping in and out of his grandfather. He kept this up for a while. 

He heard the rhythm of Rick's breaths change, quicken, heard his hands scrabble slightly, but the man otherwise didn't respond at first. 

Eventually though, with a noise of anger he began grinding down on Morty, his hips following him needily when Morty withdrew and thrusting up sharply with a grunt every time he pushed back in, like he was trying to force Morty's cock deeper inside him. 

Then Morty stopped moving entirely, and with a snarling “F-fuck you, Morty!” Rick thrust himself upwards, driving himself onto Morty's cock. It was absolutely wonderful to behold, it made Morty feel like he wanted to laugh or maybe yell in triumph, and it almost undid him. 

Elated, he pulled out entirely, unable to contain his smile when Rick flat-out moaned, and wrapped his arms around Rick's shoulders and pulled the man upwards. Breathlessly Morty said, “We’re- I wanna- I wanna do it like this,” and laid back, holding the base of his dick and looking expectantly at Rick. 

Rick, flushed and chest heaving, hesitated for just a second before giving a curt nod and climbing into position. With a glance at Morty’s face and a small wry smile, he centered himself and sat down slowly, groaning as he pushed himself down onto Morty. Morty watched with laser focus, refusing to even blink and miss a moment of Rick slowly impaling himself on his cock. 

He began lifting himself up and down in short motions, and said in a grimacing laugh, “Gotta say, Morty- p-pretty, pretty typical of ya, no more ‘d-do nothing Rick’, you, you want grandpa to do all the work, you-”

Morty cut him off by bucking upwards, hard, and grabbing Rick's hips, shoving him down on his cock. Rick interrupted himself with a groaning “Fuck!”, and fell silent with a muttered “little shit”, moving more urgently on Morty's cock. Morty's eyes almost rolled back in his head, it felt so good, but he didn't want to miss seeing Rick, commanded himself to keep watching.

The man was moving up and down in a fast, brutal pace, his dick bouncing back and forth as he did so, red and weeping slightly and looking angry, and Morty realized with wonder that Rick had never touched it, not once during this whole thing. He wet his dry lips, and said hoarsely, “T-touch yourself.”

Rick's eyes, which had been clenched shut, flew open and he stared at Morty as he began to jerk himself off roughly. It made Morty wild and he thrust up into Rick harder and faster than he had so far, over and over, feeling his orgasm come closer. With a deep moan Rick's eyes fluttered closed again and his hand moved faster. He was meeting Morty's every thrust, his walls clamping tight and practically bucking on his cock as their rhythm sped up and became more frenetic. 

Morty let out a pained groan, he wasn't going to make it any longer, it was too much. After about a dozen more lightning-fast thrusts, Rick groaning almost angrily on top of him, Morty exploded with a cracked “Fuck!”, his vision warping, electricity bolting through him down his cock, and feeling like his life force was pulsing out with every rope of cum he shot into his grandfather. 

Hips still thrusting as he rode out his orgasm, he barely had time to feel embarrassed or worried about leaving Rick high and dry before Rick came with a shout of his own, his hand a furious blur on his cock and his walls clamping down hard enough to elicit a gasp from Morty. He groaned and jerked through his release, cum dripping down over both of them, then slumped, breathing raggedly. 

Morty was so overwhelmed he only caught the tail end of Rick's orgasm, which annoyed him because he definitely would have liked to watch the whole thing, but oh well. His eyes widened and he gave out a startled cry when Rick clenched down suddenly one last time on his wilting, sensitive cock, shooting him a smirk as he did so. He watched Rick lift himself with a guttural grunt, wincing as Morty's cock pulled out of him, and sit back.

For a few moments they just recovered their breath, Rick looking at the bed and Morty looking at Rick. This was the most nerve-wracking part, just like last time, as he wondered how Rick would react to what had just happened. At least then Rick had been talking, spouting off winded complimentary babble that filled Morty with warmth. This time he was silent, aside from his breathing. The whole thing had been comparatively silent. 

Finally he got off Morty with a weary sounding grumble and laid down on his back at the head of the bed. As he folded his hands behind his head he thumped the mattress beside him in what Morty took as permission to join. He crawled up and laid down beside him, propped up slightly on a pillow so he could continue seeing Rick's face. 

Rick's face was still flushed, but his expression looked resigned and bored, and he gazed forward, away from Morty.

Morty waited anxiously, and began wondering if he should be the first to speak. After a short while Rick said, 

“So, I'm guessing you want this to be a- a thing we do now.”

It was more statement than question, said in a flat, slightly irritated tone. 

But Morty felt sure he could hear other layers, could read other things in his face, some tenseness and guilt and a bit of want, and, he knew it was insane but, maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of hope, and it gave him the courage to say,

“Y-yeah”

Rick sighed. 

“Goddamn it, Morty.”

He bent and grabbed a blanket, dragged it over them and turned out the light. 

In the darkness, his breath tight, Morty gathered his courage, turned on his side and scooted backwards closer to Rick, and waited.

There was about a half a minute of stillness. Then, after one more deep sigh, Morty heard Rick turn to his side and felt him press up against him, his breath on Morty’s neck and his hand coming up to rest on Morty’s arm. 

A few seconds after that, and without a further sound, his thumb slowly moved up, then down, just once. 

It felt soothing. It felt more relaxing than Morty would have ever thought such a small thing could be. 

But most of all, it felt like victory.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It might be a little different than what people expected :) Now, to go write more! 
> 
> Comments and criticisms always welcome!


End file.
